


You Watch

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Season 5 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-01
Updated: 2009-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Dean is fucking the Devil and you can’t stop watching.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	You Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Well... the idea just sort of popped into my brain and wouldn't go away. Thus... sadness ensues.

You watch. Can’t turn your head away. Can’t shut your eyes. It burns. Each moan. Each thrust. Their hips are slapping together like the harsh clap of hands into a microphone. Echoing around you. Shaking the ground you stand on. The headboard rams into cheap plaster and you wonder if their fucking will succeed in tearing the room down around them. Around you.

It would be nice. A relief. Something to shut it all out because your lungs burn. Your heart shatters. You’re watching and it’s killing you but you want to die so you stay. If he were more aware of your presence, of your thoughts, he’d be calling you emo. No doubt. Joking and teasing. Punching your arm and giving you this look that melts the last of the tension always weighing down your shoulders.

But he’s not aware. He doesn’t know you’re there. Doesn’t know he’s got your heart in his hands and like the hundreds – possibly thousands – of people he’s tortured in hell, he’s shredding it to bits. Death by the shattering of your heart? A just, poetic way to go for good you suppose. The final ironic act to a life full of dark disappointments and unsatisfied wants.

And it’s not so much the actual act of fucking that’s killing you. After all you’re used to him being like this. Sticking it in whoever spreads their legs wide enough. No… it’s the _who_. The knowledge that he would trust him, over you. _Him_. Evil personified. The fucking Devil himself.

Dean is fucking the Devil and you can’t stop watching.

And then…

“Fuck Sammy.”

And then…

Sudden.

Cold.

Realization.

The body being fucked – your body – turns to you as if you’re really there. As if you’re anything more than the ghost of yourself shoved aside to make room for another. And you’ve never been anyone’s vessel before, didn’t realize how aware you’d be. But there’s the distinct fact that you have no idea how you’ve come to be in this place so maybe you’re only aware because _he_ wants you to be.

You wish you could throw up. You wish you could drop to your knees. You wish Dean could hear the volume of which you scream but your mouth remains open and no sound comes out. The body – your body – is rocking back and moaning Dean’s name and everything’s curling in on itself, impending explosion just around the corner. Two steps away. Ten heartbeats away. Right _there_.

You watch until your eyes bleed. Until your heart flips upside down and inside out. Until your brother comes with quick hard thrusts and tells you he loves you, tells you he forgives you, tells you it’s going to be alright. But it’s not because…

Because the Devil is in your body, pulling Dean close and kissing his lips.

Because you’re forced to watch and know it’s too late.

Because, somehow, you’ve allowed this all to happen.

“Tell me you love me Sammy.”

And when the Devil does. “I love you Dean.” It sounds just like you, it smiles just like you.

And Dean’s returning smile hasn’t been that big in years.

And you watch because there’s never really been a choice in the matter.  



End file.
